


The Kidnapped

by UlsPi



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia has PTSD, Good Parent Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Parent Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Ships It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26819164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Geralt Rivia was captured during a mission. After five years of captivity he's back home. His husband and his ex-wife had been waiting for him but seem to be doing fine, and they had adopted a daughter. Geralt has to deal with it all, besides there's that palace in his mind, the one be got used to be lost in, searching for his loved ones and hoping they could help him.Or, Geralt thinks he's the beast, and he yearns for Jaskier to save him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 18
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I DONT OWN ANYTHING AT ALL, ESPECIALLY NOT BARBARA STREISAND SONGS.

The airport was empty, which was eerie all on its own. They had cancelled every flight, international and domestic. Jaskier felt both very entitled and ashamed about it. He knew that the press were crowding at every door, he definitely didn't like that the army was deployed to deal with the most ardent of journalists… On the other hand the last thing he wanted was an interruption of his reunion with Geralt. It had been five years. 

Yennefer squeezed his hand. "You're helping no one," she hissed. 

"Keep telling that to yourself," he hissed back.

They both decided that Ciri had to have an ordinary day in the kindergarten. She had told everyone, of course, that her dad was coming back home and that she was very excited to meet him, since she hadn't seen him, ever. Thankfully, the press did most of the dirty work and Jaskier didn't have to explain anything to Ciri's teachers. He only hoped for their discretion now, hoped that no one would spit into the face of his daughter and tell her that her dad wasn't worth the ransom paid for his return, releasing general Cahir and a few Nilfgaardian officers that were captured with him a year after Geralt had gone missing. 

Jaskier took a seat. Yennefer kept pacing the floor. 

"Look, he's my husband now, so you should stop pacing," Jaskier said. 

"Well, that is exactly why he is your husband now. Fuck, that marriage was a disaster!" 

"It totally was," Jaskier agreed. 

"And you were there for us both every step of the way."

"I was merely snaking my way into Geralt's heart. And pants. In that order, no matter what you say."

"I always told him he had to shag you sooner, if it's any consolation."

"Oh, Yen, you know me too well."

"Well, we have spent five years as a typical couple - bitter and bickering."

"The words of our house."

They stayed silent for a while.

Someone brought them disgusting airport coffee, that Yennefer chugged down and Jaskier took a sip of.

"They need to bring us vomiting bags too," Jaskier complained.

"Get over yourself. They landed an hour ago! What the fuck!" Yennefer punched the unpunchable window.

"The king, the prime minister, all of them," Jaskier explained. The vitriol in his voice could have dissolved the plexiglass that Yennefer had tried to punch. 

Quiet steps made them turn their heads. 

"Vesemir," Jaskier put a false smile on his face. Yennefer punched the glass again.

"Look, I did my best. We didn't even know he was alive," Vesemir said, raising his arms.

"Don't like your best," Yennefer said. "And as the head of counterintelligence, I have my right to think so."

"You sent him there," Jaskier winced. "You sent him there and tried to convince me that being a hero is good enough for you. I guess it is."

"It's war, kid, you…" Vesemir took in their angry faces and shut up. "He's like a son to me!" He implored.

"Yeah. So Eskel and Lambert returned…" Jaskier began. They had had that conversation so many times, but neither seemed to have tired of it.

"Yes, and then I had to hold them back from going and rescuing him!"

Yennefer actually giggled. Jaskier shot her a look.

"Well, they did try to hijack two super duper airplanes, so…" Yennefer waved her arms in the air. 

Jaskier heard himself giggling as well. "Hope you, dear Vesemir, helped them." 

"I did!" 

They had to stop their bickering, because the doors opened and a tall man with long white hair stepped into the hall. 

He looked out of place, what with his broad shoulders and gloomy face. 

"Darling," Jaskier breathed out. He stood up and ran to Geralt, but stopped just a step short. "Darling… Dear heart, it's me. It's… it's me… Love…" Jaskier bit his lip. "Geralt…"

"Hoped you'd hold me," Geralt said finally, and Jaskier rushed to hold him.

"You… you bastard… I missed you so much, thank you, thank you for coming back to me, I love you so much, I love you, I never stopped, I waited for you, gods, but you're so thin… I love you." Jaskier kissed his face and grabbed his hands and nuzzled his neck. "I missed you so much, Geralt."

"I might have… dealt with the press," Vesemir said apologetically. "You… you go home, pups. You… you go." He sobbed and walked out. Yennefer glared at his back before turning to Jaskier and Geralt. 

"Hi, idiot," she said with a sob. "I… we… let's go home. We'll have to pick up Ciri soon."

"Who's Ciri?" Geralt asked numbly. 

"Our adoption moved through after you were captured. Nilfgaard sacked Cintra, and…" Jaskier couldn't speak, so Yennefer continued for him.

"They found a baby in the ruins, and well, your husband insisted that he had every right to adopt her. That you both did. So you have a daughter. So do I, by the way. She has three parents."

"How very progressive," Geralt grunted.

"Let's go home, love. I'll… I'll tell you everything."

***

Their house was just in the outskirts of Kerack, far enough to never be bothered and close enough to enjoy all the protections of the city. 

"What have you been up to, little lark?" Geralt asked after a few minutes of Yennefer's risky driving. 

"Well, you went missing and it made me famous." Jaskier flinched. 

"So he quit everything and is now teaching languages at Aretuza. Via portals of course," Yennefer smirked at both men through the rearview window. "He's awesome," she added with a cough. "The most precious asset the counterintelligence has ever had."

"Of course. That's my little lark." Geralt kissed Jaskier's hand. 

"You're gross." Yennefer didn't mean it. 

***

Geralt was surprised to be able to realise that she didn't mean it. 

***

They had bought the house just months before Geralt was captured. Jaskier had to decorate it all on his own, with ghosts of Geralt's presence in every stray mattress and every foolish souvenir Jaskier had ever bought, and Jaskier had bought a lot of souvenirs. Geralt had been thinking of them all during those years away from his sunshine. 

That was cheesy, he thought, looking at Jaskier. 

But then again, Jaskier _was_ cheesy, so open, so unashamed, his cheerful love, witty and whip smart and smiling as the world had been perfect. 

Geralt had once been convinced that the world was indeed perfect. It was so, when Jaskier kissed him and when Jaskier told him he loved him and when Jaskier agreed to be his husband. 

It used to be easy, back then. Get onto the plane, go on a mission, come back, drive home, hold Jaskier close, breathe him in.

Yennefer left them immediately, said she had some meetings and that she'd pick up Ciri and bring her home. 

Geralt remembered. He did. They had wanted a child. Geralt had his doubts but Yennefer had convinced him otherwise, although she had been infertile. 

So they got their dream, Geralt thought, they got a child, a daughter, while Geralt was rotting away in that cell. 

His captors had been smart, had never tortured him - just deprived him of the fresh air and sunshine, of the touch of the wind, of his circadian rhythm. 

"My love, do you want a shower? Do you want to look around the house? Do you want to sleep with me?" 

Jaskier's blue eyes looked at Geralt just as they used to. As if Geralt had been the sun. 

"I… I don't know what to do," Geralt replied. He rolled his shoulders, closed his eyes. 

"We have a garden too. I planted every flower you ever mentioned… Darling, please, look at me." 

Jaskier was crying. He must have been crying for so long… 

Geralt pulled him in, kissing him, remembering him. He used to think Yennefer's sweet kiss was his entire life, but it was Jaskier, had always been Jaskier. 

They stumbled through the house, gradually losing their clothes. Jaskier was chatting, rambling really, Geralt was grunting. He felt awkward and too big in this place, because the place was too big. 

And then Jaskier was singing, his impossible, wondrous voice carrying Geralt on, as it had been doing for five years. 

_You gotta be mine_

_We take it away_

_It's gotta be night and day_

_Just a matter of time_

_And we got nothing to be guilty of_

_Our love will climb any mountain near or far, we are_

_And we'll never let it end_

_We are devotion_

"Little lark, singing someone else's song…"

"Geralt…" 

Jaskier was delirious. Wasn't he always? There for Geralt, for Yennefer, for anyone who asked. So full of love, of life, of light. 

Their first dance. Yennefer's _divorce party. A Woman in Love_ whispered into Geralt's ear as they swayed, and Geralt was far too drunk, and Jaskier was far too lovesick. How could he ever have abandoned him? How could he ever have thought that he could love another? 

And Jaskier was melting into his drunken arms, all yearning and longing and amazing vocals. 

"Shower… I want a shower, little lark. Tell me… tell me about… everything."

***

Jaskier washed him. He knew, logically, it was impossible to wash away his pain and suffering, but Jaskier would have been damned if he hadn't tried. So he washed Geralt, singing, jumping from one song to another, from his songs to the songs written by him and performed by someone else to the songs written and performed by other people. 

"I missed you. I missed you so much."

"I thought… I thought you'd find someone else. You always did. You used to…"

Jaskier slapped him. "Fuck. I'm sorry. Fuck, what am I even doing? Geralt, I had you! Why would I want anyone else? How dare you? I waited for you, I waited for you, I never…" 

He was sobbing, his tears falling on Geralt's far too long hair. He wanted it long. It was his only clock. 

"I'm sorry, love, I'm so sorry. Please… please, there was no one, no one, Geralt… you're going to be all stoic and silent… Love, talk to me, please, talk to me, I missed your voice so much."

Geralt wanted to hold and protect him - but he had lost that right, he had been caught, he had been kept away and couldn't do anything about it. What would Jaskier want of him? He was useless. 

"I waited for you, Geralt. I knew you waited too. Yes, yes, I was happy when we got our girl, and I swear… I swear…"

They were both crying now, holding on to one another. 

"I believe you, little lark. I do. I believe you. You kept me alive, little lark. I knew you'd wait for me… I was afraid you wouldn't."

***

They managed to get themselves in order by the time Ciri arrived with Yennefer. 

Ciri looked at Geralt curiously. 

"You're my dad," she said in the end. "Papa told me so much about you!" And she ran into Geralt's arms. Her hair was just the same colour as Geralt's, pale, silver white. She had green eyes, she smiled, she giggled. "Papa told me you're going to be all silent and grumpy." 

She was but five years old, and she hugged Geralt… She moved to climb up Jaskier's arms. 

"Hello, little one. It's great we got him back, isn't it?"

"He's grumpy!" Ciri giggled again.

"And he'll be grumpy, my darling. That's who daddy is. I love him just the way he is, you know. And some very bad people hurt him very badly."

"Band aid! It always helps!" Ciri ran to the bathroom to fetch some band aids. "There, daddy. It will be over in a bit, I swear," Ciri promised, and she sounded just like Jaskier, just like every person who had ever told her that a band aid solved everything. 

Geralt didn't know what to say. He stood next to Jaskier and didn't know what to say… Just like always. 

"Darling, your effort is admirable, but daddy just needs to be hugged and listened to, ok?" Jaskier said. 

"Oh fuck," Yennefer cursed. 

"Language!" Jaskier chided. 

"No, you… you, language!" She pointed at him. 

"Ok. I am. How about pizza for all of us? Ciri, you're still eating one fresh cucumber!"

***

It was distressing and chaotic, the way the evening proceeded. Geralt watched Jaskier showering Ciri, with a song, of course. Then he read her a story. Yennefer received a huge hug. "Mama, will you come tomorrow?" Ciri asked.

"I will, cub, of course. Your dads are idiots!"

"I know!" Ciri laughed.

***

Yennefer drove away. Geralt didn't like how close she and Jaskier seemed, but perhaps it was to be expected. 

Jaskier held him again. Geralt had forgotten how tactile he was.

"Darling, my love… Geralt… my Geralt, you still haven't answered me. Do you want to sleep with me? There's plenty of room, if you need some…"

"No!" Geralt grabbed him, almost in panic. "No. Sleep. Sleep with you. Only you. I haven't slept for five years. I want to sleep with you."

Jaskier looked at him, bright and loving, no pity, no shame.

"Then let me take you to our bed, my love."

He led Geralt to the bedroom and undressed him. "Darling… oh darling… all those scars… are you in pain, my love? I'm sorry, I was too… too stupid before. I love you. You're ok like that? Do you want to sleep naked?"

Geralt shut his eyes. "I… I dreamed of you next to me. Even there. Sorry. Wanted you there. Want you everywhere."

"I'd have been there, with you. I only learned you're alive a few days ago. Learned for sure. I hoped… darling, I hoped."

Jaskier lay him down on those fine sheets, worn out a bit, soft and smelling of Jaskier… That smell got Geralt through five years, got him through so much, just a memory, a hope.

Now Jaskier's head was on Geralt's shoulder and Jaskier's hand was in Geralt's hair. The night was quiet, the world was big, Geralt was free.

He closed his eyes. 

He remembered his mind palace, that huge place, a labyrinth of a place, of a palace. As the years went by, Geralt had lost his way around it. 

It seemed to be a stronghold, a keep, it had no windows big enough to catch the sun, the stars, the seasonal change of the sky. 

And within that keep, Geralt was nothing but a beast. He was hunger and yearning, he was wild, barely sentient. He wandered the castle all on his own, slowly turning into something he never wanted to be - but he couldn't help it. He was lost there, and he was a beast, and the palace was his only home - so far removed from Jaskier's warmth and love. 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is very sad. I'm sorry.

Geralt woke up to soft singing. 

Five years of waking up to silence - and now there was singing. 

There was Jaskier's voice and there was Ciri's voice. They were laughing every now and then.

Geralt remembered that he could follow them, follow those voices.

He'd have to work on his relationship with Ciri. He had always wanted kids, he had to make it work, had to smile and be happy, because Ciri deserved the very best. Because Ciri was his daughter, his baby girl. He had been bad enough to miss so much of her life, and…

As he would have done in his cell, he let himself fall on the floor, stretching his arms to fall on his hands. The routine was 24 pushups on his hands, 24 on his fists, 24 on his fingertips, 24 on one hand, then fist, then fingertips, and the same for the other arm. He hadn't been given any books or music, so it used to be workouts and meditation. 

Push-ups had to be followed by squats, stretches and uplifts. 

He caught himself adding more exercises, because that way he would have sped up the time. He didn't need that now. He could walk out of the room, go join his family. 

But just like a worn out mechanism, he kept working out, too scared to go and ruin the morning for Jaskier and Ciri. They wouldn't want him anyway.

He heard a knock and hopped up from a squat in panic - he didn't want them to know, to see him, to think he was like that, to think he had enough luxury to work out. If he could work out, why didn't he come back sooner?

"Daddy?" Ciri called. "We made breakfast." She walked over to Geralt and looked up at him curiously. "Papa taught me about consent. Said it's important to ask before touching someone. So, can I hug you?"

"Yes. Yes, please."

Ciri nodded and hugged Geralt. "It's good you're home, daddy."

"You don't know me," Geralt replied.

"I do! Papa told me everything about you!" Ciri looked very proud. "And he told me that you're going through some difficult times and need a lot of hugs. My hugs are the best."

"They definitely are." Geralt crouched next to her to be on the same level. "I… I want to know you, too. No one told me about you, I didn't know about you until yesterday."

"I'm a pleasant surprise!" Ciri hopped. Her smile was blinding, she was shining and fuzzy and sparkling and every good thing Geralt could have thought of. 

"Can I hug you?" Geralt asked carefully.

"Sure!" Ciri hugged him first. "Papa says your hugs are the strongest. I like being squeezed."

Geralt obligingly squeezed her. Ciri seemed to be delighted and kept talking into Geralt's neck. "Papa's hugs are the softest, he's like a loud cloud." Geralt couldn't help chuckling. "Mama's hugs are all ticklish. Uncle Lambert never hugs, but he throws me up in the air!" Ciri broke the hug to show how high uncle Lambert would toss her. "Uncle Eskel thinks I'm too small, so I have to eat my carrots to fit in his hugs… but there's plenty of space in his arms so I tickle him. Papa was right, your hugs are the strongest. Now you lift me up and let's go eat!" Ciri commanded. Geralt couldn't refuse, even if he had been inclined to do so. 

Jaskier was making coffee. He turned to greet them, his smile soft and tender. "Morning, love. Ciri, did you wake daddy up?"

"Nope! He was doing strange things with himself but he wasn't asleep."

"Oh daddy," Jaskier flirted. Nothing could break him, it seemed. His eyes were red and he looked a bit scared, but he flirted just like he used to. 

"Just push-ups."

"I want to do push-ups too!" Ciri said from Geralt's arms. "And I want my French toast."

"Well, young lady, you ran away." Jaskier put Ciri's plate on the table. 

Geralt seemed lost, but Ciri managed to kick him in just the right places, and so he landed on a chair. Ciri decided to eat sitting on his lap, and he decided it wasn't so bad at all. 

"Ciri, you'd better hurry, mama is coming any moment."

Geralt frowned, as Ciri began to shove her food into her mouth with doubled fervour. 

"Why is Yen coming?" He asked.

"She's taking me to school," Ciri explained around a mouthful. "And when I'm at her place, papa does it. You should eat too."

She hopped off his lap and ran off to gather her things, apparently. 

"What? I…"

"Love, Yen is her mom, and that's how we've been doing it." Jaskier smiled again. He put a cup of coffee in front of Geralt. "And I get to stay with you and…"

"I don't need a babysitter!" Geralt spat. Jaskier took a step back, hurt and frightened, but then he shook his head. "Darling, I never said you did. I want to spend some time with my husband. If you'd rather do… something else, it's alright. You're home, Geralt. Fuck, love, you're home." Jaskier bit his lip to avoid sobbing out loud and held Geralt tenderly. 

"We've established that," Geralt grunted. He was so angry, he could feel it bubble up to the surface, something wild and unyielding, something that would hurt… If he had been able to put it into words, he would have said that hurting was what he had gotten used to, and that now he could allow himself to be properly, wildly angry. To be furious at himself, at his loving husband, at his doting ex-wife, at his precious little daughter, at the whole damn fucking life that had turned out so twisted. 

"Would you like to call Eskel and Lambert? We… we were told, Yen and I, that just us there would be the best, but they want to see you, silly wolves." Jaskier chuckled. For someone so perceptive and overall perfect, Jaskier seemed to be oblivious, painfully so. 

"Don't call them that!" He snapped again. Jaskier kept holding him. "Get away from me. I don't want your pity, I…"

"Stop yelling," Jaskier said softly. "Wait a few minutes more. Yen will pick Ciri up, then we can yell. I didn't want to disrupt her routine, but maybe she should stay with Yen in the meantime…"

Geralt growled. He pushed Jaskier away and went back to the bedroom. 

He could hear Yen and Jaskier talk downstairs. Geralt hated them, hated their lives, their world, their care. He didn't belong with them, he never had, they were beautiful and bright and smart and funny, and he…

He shut his eyes. 

Most of his days in captivity had been spent in a memory palace. He had built it carefully, with meticulous detail. And yet he'd wander that palace alone, he hadn't managed to find Jaskier there. 

Jaskier was to blame of course. Too sunny, too cherry, too full of movement. 

Yen wasn't there either.

He kept looking though, wandering there, pushing each and every violent thought into that beast he had made himself to be. He felt beast-like too. 

At first it was just a way to channel his grief, his loss, his fear. 

Then, as the time went by, he allowed his mind to morph into that creature. It was easier to feel the texture of his memory palace as a wolf, somehow. Easier to keep silent. He hadn't been chatty but he yearned for a short, silly conversation, the likes of which he had with Jaskier each morning. 

He forbade himself to masturbate, his body and mind forgot what a loving touch felt like. 

He held all his memories about Jaskier, about his touch and his kiss in the highest tower of his palace, and he never went there. 

In time he trained himself to forget his way there. 

And now he wanted to unlock that tower, to rush up, to find Jaskier sitting there and waiting for him and smiling at him. To find and to rescue him… Bollocks! Jaskier was fine.

It was Geralt who couldn't find his way back. 

"Geralt," Jaskier sat on the edge of the bed. "Geralt, I love you. I love you so much. I know… actually I know nothing. But I'm here. Whatever you… need. I'm here."

Geralt growled again. He was indeed the beast here. 

"Oh my sweet and tender wolf, my grouchy darling." Jaskier lay down next to him and gingerly put a hand on Geralt's stomach. "You must be so hungry. What should I make for you?"

"I don't need you to take care of me!" Geralt replied without opening his eyes. 

"I know. Could you indulge me, though?" Geralt could hear Jaskier's pout, and no, he hadn't learned to say no to Jaskier. 

"Eggs. And bacon. Burnt black." He couldn't help smiling. He had barely eaten the day before.

"Oh, my husband's back and my kitchen's in trouble, hey-la, hey-la," Jaskier sang. 

"I… missed your voice. I never allowed myself to remember it. I'd have exploded just thinking of you." 

"I might have exploded a lot, love," Jaskier said playfully. "But in all seriousness, I… I threw away all my dildos, can you imagine that?"

Geralt opened one eye to peek at Jaskier. "It was valuable, little lark. There was some mad vintage stuff. You could have sold it…"

"I know, it was our retirement plan, wasn't it?" Jaskier leaned in for a kiss. 

He hadn't changed a bit, he was still that moaning, passionate, hungry mess Geralt had fallen in love with. 

Jaskier stopped himself short of straddling Geralt. "I'm dirty. Bad husband. Don't spank me yet. I love you." Jaskier gave him one more kiss and left Geralt to make food.

The smells rose slowly from the kitchen, comforting and lovely. 

***

Eskel and Lambert sat in front of Geralt and Jaskier and cradled their drinks. Jaskier insisted on whiskey at ten in the morning. 

Everyone was silent until Jaskier blew up.

"For fuck's sake! You're all brutes and… and brutes!"

"Thought you were a poet," Lambert smirked. 

"Oh right, if it's something to tease me with, you can talk! Brilliant! Well, kids, it's customary to say "it's good to see you, old friend"!"

"It's so fucking good to see you, Geralt," Eskel managed. "Lambert, shut up. No, say something nice."

"Ehm… what he said." Lambert pointed at Eskel. "Totally."

"You're insufferable. Love, I'm going to get drunk," Jaskier informed Geralt. The older man found himself grinning and held Jaskier closer. "Tell them how you tried to hijack some super classified plains to get him. Come on, it's a funny story." He waved at Lambert and Eskel.

That seemed to have done the trick, because they started telling Geralt everything about their rescue plan, and how Vesemir had to vouch for them, and how Yen had to vouch for them and how they had to spend a month on Jaskier's couch, the very one they were sitting on, because Jaskier was very quiet and…

"Quiet? You, little lark?" Geralt looked at his husband. 

"I was. I missed you. They were here and you weren't. I was very mad at them, you know."

Geralt's friends took it all in good humour, but Geralt stood up abruptly. "How dare you? They… they tried to do something! And all you did was moping around and thinking me dead?"

Eskel and Lambert looked mortified. 

"Listen… Geralt… You…" Eskel began, but Geralt kept yelling and pacing. He went on a rant about true friendship and loyalty. 

Jaskier downed his drink. "I'll leave you, boys." He put the glass on a nearby table and slowly walked out of the room.

Geralt barely paid attention. He was gesticulating wildly at his friends, failing to notice their discomfort. 

"What the fuck, Geralt!" Lambert shouted finally. "He was dying here! He refused to eat or sleep!"

"Lambert, stop," Eskel tried to reason.

"I won't stop! We've been waiting for his sorry arse! You got caught, buddy, that's how it is! No one expected you to survive, we just…"

"Lambert, shut up!" Eskel boomed. Geralt stared at them, lost for words, still impossibly angry. He noticed Jaskier's absence, his earlier words registered in his head and he heavily sat back. 

"Geralt, I'm sorry. I can't imagine what you've been through…"

"You fucking arseholes!" Jaskier, eyes red and tears staining his face, ran into the room. "Fucking get away from my house! Both of you! You won't guilt trip Geralt, not on my watch! You… Out!"

"Sorry, Jask," Eskel looked indeed apologetic. 

"They are my friends! This is my house too! They are staying!" Geralt yelled.

"They are fucking not!" Jaskier snapped back. "No one is talking about you this way! No one!" 

"Fuck off, Jask!" 

"Shut up, Geralt!" Eskel commanded. He steered Lambert towards the door. "You're home and you need help. You so need help!"

"That's why you're leaving?" Geralt couldn't lower his voice. 

"We're leaving because you're lashing out at your husband…" Eskel stepped closer to Geralt. 

"Harm him and we'll kill you!" Lambert yelled and walked out, slamming the door behind him. 

"Ok, pay him no mind, he's an idiot." Eskel nodded at Jaskier. "You were right, Jask. We had to wait." He squeezed Geralt's shoulder and followed Lambert. 

"You kept them away?" Geralt turned back to Jaskier. The man was crying openly now.

"You returned yesterday, love. I kept no one away. Do you need anything?"

"You, out of my sight! Off my hands! I hate you."

"That's not fair. And you don't mean it, Geralt."

Jaskier fearlessly stepped closer, and closer still, until there was barely a breath between him and Geralt. 

"I'm not afraid of you. I love you so much… And you better fucking believe me! Come back to me… Darling, please, come back…"

Geralt closed his eyes. He was running around his palace, scared and alone, Jaskier was calling out to him, begging him to come home, and he didn't know where to go. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short update to soften the blow of the previous chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who reads this and leaves kudos and comments. I'll get to answer them, I swear. For now I'm just so happy to get any that I'm staring at them longingly.

"We need to think about Ciri." Jaskier's voice was hoarse, he'd been crying for hours, swearing every minute that he was about to stop.

Geralt wanted to scoop him in his arms and hold him, but it seemed he couldn't protect him anymore, couldn't comfort him. His little lark was so impossibly sad, and Jaskier hadn't been born to be sad - he was sunshine and clear blue sky and April and roses.

"I'm sorry, little lark…" 

"Oh shut up." Jaskier sat next to Geralt. They had tea mugs in their hands. Jaskier looked older than Vesemir and Vesemir must have witnessed the birth of the universe. "It's alright…" He took Geralt's hand. "It's not alright. But we'll make it work. We will."

"I… I love you, little lark. I swear I… you want me to… to go to therapy?"

"Geralt, it took you ten years to acknowledge our friendship, another five years to marry me. I think you said you loved me about a week before you went missing. I… I want you to… I… fuck, I'm not crying again, I'm not! Ciri."

"You… She's our girl. I want her to be happy. Safe." Geralt nuzzled Jaskier's hair. "You smell safe. Not happy, though. I'm sorry."

"You shut up! Her week with Yen starts in three days. I really want to keep her routine untouched. I… I talked to her. She knows you're in pain and sad."

"She said you told her I need a lot of hugs and hers are the best." 

They smiled at each other. "She's right." Geralt touched Jaskier's face. "You're beautiful, little lark."

"So are you, love. Can you… can you tolerate me…"

"I love you, Jask."

"I know," Jaskier said calmly. "I know, Geralt. I've always known."

"Even when you thought I was dead?"

"Always," Jaskier replied. "I waited for you to catch up for so long. I loved you the day I met you, you idiot."

"You're an idiot, Jask, you could have had anyone."

"I don't need anyone. I need my grumpy white wolf. Long hair looks good on you. Do you want to cut it?"

"It was my… my clock. That's how I measured time." 

"Oh love…"

Geralt sank on the floor, kneeling between Jaskier's legs. "Listen… listen, I… I need to tell you this, lark. I… I want to." 

"Darling… oh darling, I'm listening." Jaskier risked a look at his watch. They still had a couple of hours before Ciri came back. 

"I… I didn't… I never touched myself. There. Never wanted anything good there. Nothing. And… and I thought of you. Didn't want to, but sometimes… couldn't bear. I couldn't find you. I couldn't find you." Geralt sobbed. "I couldn't find you anywhere!"

"Darling, I'm here. I… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish I… I did touch myself. And I was angry with you for leaving me… Then I yearned. Exciting, isn't it?" Jaskier chuckled. He touched Geralt's hair gingerly, leaned in to kiss his ear, the tip of his nose, his cheeks. 

"You've always been easily excitable, lark."

"Fuck, Geralt, I missed your teasing. Missed our bickering."

They held each other, rocking slowly together, without any rhythm. 

Yen coughed politely, warning them of what was to come, and then Ciri rushed in and demanded a family hug, so in the end all four of them sat on the floor hugging. Ciri was shamelessly giggling. 

"Kids," Yen hissed to Geralt. "You want them, and they giggle. Terrible, really. I'd kill for her."

"She can," Jaskier whispered to Geralt. "She has her entire school in her fist. They fear her." He giggled too. 

"Sure. I'll bury them alive if I need!" Yen said quietly. 

"You should stay the night," Jaskier told her. Ciri took Geralt away to show him all her twenty drawings. 

"Jask, I remember you being hopelessly jealous." Yen teased. 

"I still am. But I want you here, for our girl."

"You… you think he's dangerous?"

Jaskier was on his feet the next moment.

"How the fuck dare you? I've had enough today, Yen. Lambert yelled at him, Eskel said he needed help, and no one is even remotely helpful!"

"Hey…" Yennefer tried to calm him down.

"No! Don't hey me. Don't. It's Geralt. He's been through hell and we will love him and take such good care of him!"

"Jask, you're hopeless. You think it'll be fine for her?"

"Yeah. She's busy with Geralt now. Let's make dinner. We didn't have lunch, I'm afraid."

***

Geralt was given the honour of using Ciri's crayons, so while Yen and Jaskier busied themselves with roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, Geralt listened to Ciri as she explained to him how he had to draw clouds. He felt silly - and hopeful. He actually enjoyed doodling with his girl, as the rest of her parents argued whether salad was a total buzzkill or just a little bit of a buzzkill. 

Ciri couldn't care less. She was drawing and chatting - just like her  _ papa _ . She talked about her day and her friends and her toys and she made up stories on the go and she worried about Geralt getting his fingertips dirty and she instructed him on how to wash the paint away and she said she didn't like salad but the crunchy vegetables were funny and she said that mama never made her eat vegetables but couldn't manage a decent lullaby and that she was very proud she hadn't come to sleep with papa and daddy the previous night and that Yen bought her a new car seat and a stuffed unicorn which was her fifth stuff unicorn which in her system meant that she now owned a whole lot of unicorns.

Geralt looked up at Jaskier. 

"We'll get her more," he mouthed and winked. His winks had been Geralt's undoing all those years ago. Yen frowned at them both before bursting out laughing. 

"What's so funny?" Ciri asked without looking away from her drawing.

"You're getting so many stuffed unicorns," Jaskier explained.

"One every week. If you behave. And eat all the vegetables papa makes you eat." Yennefer appeared slightly uncomfortable.

"Yay!" Ciri replied enthusiastically. "Daddy, your clouds are amazing. Keep working." 

"I will, cub." 

"Oh my, his clouds are amazing," Yennefer rolled her eyes. 

"They are! And you can't appreciate… clouds." Jaskier stuck his tongue out, Yen slapped him with a towel, they laughed. 

It was dark outside, and the wind was howling angrily, but in their kitchen it was all warm and safe, with the overwhelming smells of food and Ciri's chatter and Jaskier and Yennefer's bickering. All three of them looked at Geralt as if he had been precious. 

"Stop looking at me like that," he grunted. 

"I know!" Ciri exclaimed and grabbed his arm. "They're all so… soft. It's kinda nice but embarrassing."

"You're too wise, cub," Geralt replied.

"Yeah." Ciri shrugged. She had no trouble being awesome. 

They ate happily. Geralt didn't try to retreat to his labyrinthian palace once again…

Although he did say to Jaskier when they settled in their bed: 

"I sometimes… I want to be there. In my palace. Can be… a beast there."

"Darling, you're not a beast. When will you see, dear heart, that… oh… I'm a sap. Good night, Geralt. I love you. I'll find you, I promise. 

***

Geralt had trained himself to sleep without dreams, since his dreams tended to be nightmares mostly, but next to Jaskier he slept calmly. There was just cozy soft darkness around him, Jaskier's breath…

Ciri joined them in the middle of the night. Yennefer came searching for her and ended up sleeping with them as well. Geralt woke up with his neck sore, sweating, what with all the bodies around him. But they all smelled good and breathed calmly. Ciri was telling something in her sleep. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for some sexual content.

Geralt was on his best behaviour for three days. 

The moment Ciri and Yen left, he lashed out. He couldn't hear himself, didn't know what he was saying but Jaskier looked more and more distressed. Geralt couldn't stop, couldn't gather his thoughts well enough to form full sentences.

Jaskier moved to leave and came back and cried and screamed at Geralt, although Geralt couldn't hear him. 

Then there was a kiss, a hot, demanding, passionate thing, wet and needy, greedy in the best way. 

He pushed Geralt until Geralt's back hit the wall; he tugged gently at Geralt's hair; he touched Geralt, both gently and firmly. 

"It's me, you idiot. Fuck you. I love you. Shut up." Jaskier dove back for another kiss. 

Geralt realised his own hands had been hanging by his sides, unforgivably, so he rushed to touch Jaskier too, all that skin and so much hair, that smell, lavender and camomile and just plainly Jaskier. 

The lonely beast seemed to have found its way to Jaskier's tower, but fuck the beast, Geralt was doing his best to concentrate solely on his husband, the way Jaskier demanded to be loved and heard and to make Geralt see how loved he was. 

Jaskier was suddenly on his knees, fumbling with Geralt's trousers and underwear. 

It suddenly occurred to Geralt that he couldn't remember where his clothes had come from. He automatically took something from his old shelf and put it on… Jaskier had kept his clothes. Jaskier bought him new ones. 

And fuck, Jaskier's mouth was on him, sweet and hungry. It was over too soon, Geralt was embarrassed… He meant to be, but Jaskier was kissing him again, letting Geralt taste them together. 

He was strong, he thought, he could do anything, so he tore Jaskier's clothes off of him and hoisted the other man's legs over his shoulders, pinning him to the wall and swallowing him.

_ What if it's not real? What if it's just another trick? Just another dead end of that accursed palace of his? _

Jaskier moaned loudly. 

Geralt had never had much of imagination, so it couldn't be that he had imagined _ that _ \- the raw emotion, the passion, Jaskier's remarkable ability to lose himself to pleasure. 

Before long they were kissing on the floor. They kissed like that when they got married, Jaskier kissed him desperately. He was drunk and somehow still scared, and he told Geralt to never forget or leave him. 

Gerald laughed back then. "We're idiots, little lark, I'm never letting you go, I'm never leaving you." Jaskier groaned something about only one of them being an idiot. 

He was drunk, so drunk, and he smelled of jasmine that night, such a heavy, heady smell, a white smell, a low smell, a smell to be played on the organ. 

Yennefer gave him away to Jaskier. She was giggling the whole time. 

Jaskier was so smitten, so besotted, so in love.

Geralt wanted to stay by him forever, to never leave, to never leave their bed, to let the whole wide world burn if it meant they stayed together. 

Now Jaskier was on him, pressing his hands into the floor, showering Geralt with kisses and caresses, drowning and chasing away every other thought, rushing towards Geralt through the endless halls and rooms.

Geralt saw him, reckless as ever, careless, mindless, determined still. 

"I'm too heavy," he whispered. Jaskier was cradling him, cuddling him, all those soft short words, more difficult than the words tended to be, because those were soft and short and so easily mistaken for one another. "I'm too heavy, and I can't… Can't make it to you."

"In your palace?" Jaskier asked casually. Geralt lifted his head to look at him. 

"How… how did you…"

"Well, you mentioned it, darling. Do you… do you want me to… How about we wander that place together? Make a fairy tale of it? I'll find you there, dear heart, I'll find you anywhere."

Geralt was numb with how much he loved that man, his husband, his better half.

The doorbell rang. 

"Should we ignore anyone it is?" Jaskier asked. 

"No… no, I don't think it's right."

"And leaving me like that is right? Well, you're insufferable!" Jaskier slowly rose to his feet. "I'll go and find my robe."

He returned a few moments later wearing a fluffy pink bathrobe, and tossed another robe at Geralt. It was denim. Geralt laughed out loud. He remembered how Jaskier had given the robe to him, saying, "You decidedly prefer uncomfortable things, so here is something uncomfortable for you, so you stop walking around in your boxers and being all distracting."

***

Jaskier opened the door. 

"Vesemir."

"Yes… Hello, Julian." Vesemir's gaze fell on Jaskier's hickeys. "He hurt you? Did he hurt you? Fuck, Julek, you had to…"

Jaskier wasn't much of a fighter, but his punch landed right on Vesemir's nose. 

"You hopeless old fuck!"

"Did you just punch Vesemir?" Geralt appeared next to Jaskier, wearing his denim bathrobe. 

"I did! He said you hurt me!" Jaskier yelled. 

"He's my mentor! How dare you…"

"And how dare he say you hurt me?"

"Stop right now!" Vesemir demanded. "It was a good punch, Geralt! Did you hurt your husband? I'm going to round up all the therapists…"

"I'm gonna punch him again," Jaskier threatened. 

Geralt grunted. 

"These are hickeys!!! Hickeys!" Jaskier yelled. 

"Can we all stop yelling?" Vesemir asked. 

"No, we can't!" But he walked away, leaving the door open and swaying his hips more than was necessary. Vesemir glared at Geralt. 

"Did you hurt your little lark?"

"I didn't!" Geralt took a step back. 

"Get a hold of yourself, because I don't know what to do…" And Vesemir embraced Geralt and started to cry. 

"That old fuck had always been useless!" Jaskier shouted from the kitchen. He was making too much noise making tea. "And now he's crying! Well, fine, let us all cry!"

Geralt felt peculiar. He wanted to yell at Vesemir and at Jaskier, for all sorts of reasons, all different. And he wanted to toss Vesemir aside and go and ravish Jaskier some more. And he wanted to comfort his old mentor and never ravish Jaskier again.

"Vesemir! I made you Earl Grey! Stop weeping on my husband's shoulder!"

"Oh… he's right. The lark is always right!" Vesemir proclaimed. "So good to see you, my boy."

"Hmmm," Geralt replied. 

"Geralt, use words, for fuck's sake!" Jaskier yelled from the kitchen.

"Hmmmm," Geralt said again.

"And there you have it!" Jaskier appeared again and thrusted a cup of tea into Vesemir's hands. "He can't use words anymore!"

"But he never could." Vesemir sat on the very sofa that Jaskier had ravished Geralt on not an hour ago. Jaskier shot him his most mischievous smirk. 

"Jaskier!" Geralt warned. 

"Geralt!" Jaskier warned back. 

Vesemir looked at them worryingly, but Jaskier just snuggled closer to Geralt. 

"I don't mean to be insensitive, but…" Vesemir began.

"But you're being insensitive! Shut up, Geralt. They all think I'm a spring flower. And you're an animal. I love it when you're being an animal," he purred carelessly. 

"Lark, he might be dangerous…" Vesemir went on.

"Geralt, the love of my love, the most oblivious of all the idiots in the world, is right here. On the other hand, you're here only because he's so angry I'm so rude to you. Right, love?"

Geralt grunted. 

"I can be dangerous, though," he said in the end. 

"You can be. Still my husband. And Ciri is with Yen. And Vesemir can fuck off."

"He's my mentor!"

"He's your husband! He waited for you, and Lambert said…"

Jaskier jumped up from his seat. "You know, I can be terrifying, despite my pink bathrobe! I hate you all! Can't you understand that the more you treat him like a beast, the more he feels like one?" Jaskier exclaimed. 

"I… I'll leave you alone," Vesemir said, standing up. 

"Take the cup," Jaskier sneered. 

"Oh right… oh… I will. Good porcelain."

"Indeed. My drunken online shopping is perfect!"

"It is," Geralt suddenly agreed. 

Vesemir hurried up and left. 

"Sorry, love. I'm going to love you back into your old grouchy self. Let's work on that fairy tale!"


	5. Chapter 5

So it went like this.

(And perhaps many a therapist would disapprove but many a therapist would not like to meet Jaskier in a dark alleyway. Or anywhere, really.)

Geralt would lash out and yell and rage. He'd blame Jaskier for sleeping around and for never wanting Geralt to come back and for giving up on Geralt and so on and so forth. 

Jaskier would take a deep breath. He'd grab and manhandle Geralt until Geralt stopped shaking. 

"I love you, I love you, I love you, what did they do to you, I love you, you're my everything, I wasn't alive without you. Not even with Ciri. I knew you'd come back to me, I knew, you stubborn, impossible arse!"

Geralt would kneel between Jaskier's legs, would push his head into Jaskier's lap, Jaskier would caress his head and play with his hair.

"So listen," Jaskier would begin. 

_ Once upon a time there was a beast. He was a gentle soul but too many people told him he was a monster, and he eventually believed them. _

_ But he was kind, he cared so deeply.  _

_ He wanted to build a home for himself and his small family. In fact he had quite a few people who loved and cared for him deeply. There was his ex-wife, a powerful sorceress, there was his helpless buffoon of a husband, there was his clever daughter, and his naughty brothers and his sad father.  _

_ The only thing the beast wanted was to shield and protect his family, the people who were dear to him, and so he built that keep, that fortress. It had everything, absolutely everything the beast's family might have wished for.  _

_ Yet in his effort the beast had lost his way. He was so concerned about safety, about hiding those whom he held dear from the rest of the world that he ended up being unable to find them. _

_ His foolish husband had none of it, though. He wanted his beast back in his chambers. _

_ And so one day the beast's husband set out from his beautiful rooms, leaving their daughter with the sorceress. He wanted to find his husband… _

"It's your turn now, love. How can I find you?" Jaskier leaned to kiss the top of Geralt's head.

_ The beast was roaming the endless corridors of his keep, trying to find his way back to his family. He was lonely, he was lost. He had hidden his loved ones so well even he couldn't find them.  _

"That's not much of a fairy tale, Jask. My little lark."

"Darling, none of it is. We need to… to work it through. We need to." Jaskier begged.

They usually did this at night or when Ciri was at Yen's. Ciri tended to interrupt their therapy with her furious steps, with her climbing into their bed and snuggling in their covers and their scents. 

"Maybe she's my therapy?" Geralt would whisper. 

"Maybe. But just this morning you wanted me gone because I don't remember what. I don't remember what I do to spurn you, Geralt. And I need to… We need to work through this! Please!" 

Geralt heard him thinking _ even if you leave me _ . Geralt had left many people in his life, but he couldn't imagine leaving Jaskier. Jaskier had been there forever, Jaskier had never been afraid, or weary. Jaskier had always wanted him, so there he was, the best poet on the Continent, the bard who rejected his fame and glory to stay at home and wait for Geralt. 

"I want to give you everything, little lark. You saved me. I stayed alive because I knew you were there, that you needed me, you helpless idiot. I… I… I love you. I love you, Jask. Please… don't leave me. Don't leave me, I'll do anything."

"Love, I'll never leave you. I won't leave you even if you ask for it. I'm that stubborn, that much of an idiot."

Jaskier would help Geralt into his pyjamas. He'd make sure Geralt brushed his teeth, he'd braid Geralt's hair. 

"I don't deserve it."

"Shut up, my love. I'll tell you, when you are in bed. I'll tell you."

Those weren't words, Geralt thought, not human words at least. Jaskier told him so much with words - and then with kisses and reassuring arms. 

They had met when Geralt was lost and they had parted when Geralt was found. They had parted having a home, a husband, a place to call his own, a person to love him and keep him. 

Jaskier was all about words, while Geralt tended to dismiss them. Jaskier said his wedding vows meaning every syllable. Geralt just wanted that impossible, kind, gentle man all to himself, forever, by any means necessary. 

Geralt lay there at night and couldn't bring himself to sleep because there he was, in his home, next to Jaskier and Ciri, their breath filling the silence, their limbs everywhere. Jaskier kept reaching out for Geralt even in his sleep, and Ciri seemed to be perfectly aware of where to shift in search of more body heat, more protection. She looked content. Jaskier looked smitten. Geralt couldn't fall asleep - he was too afraid to wake up back in his cell, alone, captive, removed from everything he had held dear.

So he lay there and listened. 

The wind, the breathing, the tunes Jaskier had hummed during the day, the tunes Jaskier had insisted on humming for days. So much music, so many sounds, and ringing above it all the sound of silence, of silent safety. 

_ Maybe his buffoon of a husband was a fae, maybe he danced there in the rings of mushrooms, in the dark forest, possessed and happy. Maybe Geralt had no place beside him because he was different, of different species. He couldn't join the dance, couldn't join Jaskier, graceful and beautiful, in that madness. He had wished he had gone mad. He had wished he had forgotten everything.  _

_ The memories tugged him back, though. Back to Jaskier, to everyone, but mostly Jaskier. _

_ Jaskier who had stayed with him and remained a friend, until Geralt could see what had been in front of him for years, until Geralt realised that everything could disappear and turn into dust and he wouldn't notice, because Jaskier would have been next to him, humming, singing, looking at him with those impossible blue eyes. _

"Darling? Geralt? Why are you awake, my love?"

"Been thinking about you."

"Well, I'm glad I can keep you awake but that's definitely not the way I should keep you awake."

"Ciri is here. I'm afraid every other way is out of the question, lark."

"We could go to the bathroom."

"You'd want me? Like that? After all the yelling and…"

"You're not yourself, love. Not entirely. I'd want you. I want you. I always do."

"Jask…"

"Don't Jask me! I love you, I always have and always will. Come rain or sunshine."

"You're an idiot."

"Yes, we established that, no go to sleep, Geralt."

_ The beast kept roaming the halls, the keep, the world. The road was hard, no doubt, but somewhere near there was his little lark, singing and calling and demanding. Geralt would find him, no matter what, no matter how long it might take. He'd find him. Always.  _

_ More importantly, his little lark would find him - and would do it quickly. Brave little lark, the lark of his life. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for being here. I accept all things, but please, no rotten vegetables.


End file.
